


Who is the Real Monster

by Iam_alittle_stitious



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Cottagecore, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Lesbian, Medusa deserves a happy ending, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, the love story between Medusa and a beautiful blind maiden, this story isn't strictly set in the Percy Jackson world, what if we didn't blame Madusa when she was clearly the victim?, wlw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:48:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27954149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iam_alittle_stitious/pseuds/Iam_alittle_stitious
Summary: While glorifying greek mythology they forgot to tell us Medusa did not have an 'affair' with Poseidon, in fact she may have had no say in their encounter at all.Medusa has lived happily with her sisters as maidens and healers, but after Poseidon, and her transformation, Medusa could not bare being known as a monster. She built a new life, if not happy, she was content.When she comes to the aid of a beautiful blind maiden, Medusa realizes there may be more than just misery in her life.Or. The wlw love story between a 'monster' and a maiden. Inspired by a tumblr prompt I cannot find
Relationships: Medusa/OC
Comments: 1
Kudos: 28





	Who is the Real Monster

**Author's Note:**

> First off I want to mention I wrote a blind character with no experience. I did a bit of research for accuracy and sensitivity, but don't hesitate to correct me. 
> 
> I should mention this isn't strictly a Percy Jackson story, but it is the story I, a Percy Jackson lover, wanted. It is set in ancient Greece so most of the content will not involve the Percy Jackson series. 
> 
> This idea is dear to my heart, so please enjoy!

The world had lost most of its colour by 25. Medusa could see the world around her just fine, but all the joys, sorrows, and exquisite emotions were as far from her grasp as flight. 

Medusa lost the anger quickly, she had not healed, simply covered it with a white cloth so she could pretend. 

She had tried to stay with her sisters. She had tried everything. But she could only hear herself being called a monster so many times before she became one. 

Instead she bundled up some clothes, gathered as many coins as she could, tied a wrap around her serpentine locks. And set off. 

The world was blue by 27. Hours tending to a garden. Fixing things around the cottage she had found half dilapidated. In the ruins of that cottage, roof leaking, walls crumbling, Medusa found a hardened block of clay. With little though she cleared it out with the rest of the debris. 

It took months, covert scavenges, and multiple disguises. But eventually the broken down shack became home. When Medusa set to working the dirt patches beside the porch she found that dried clay. It seemed like the perfect irony. Instead of turning men to stone, she could create out of clay. 

Medusa spent her days weeding, watering, and pruning. She sent her nights molding cups, bowls, and honey pots. It left little time for sleep, but that suited her just fine. Dark circles, and stiff limbs were a small price to pay for the oblivion an exhausted mind brought.

The world was green when Medusa first saw her. She was set up at the little market, her pottery half gone already. A silk wrap pulled strategically around her head and a pair of carefully crafted spectacles covering her eyes. The woman was small, that’s what stood out most glaringly. Not small in stature but in presence, she walked with her arm held desperately to a man of little interest to Medusa. It was as though she were trying to disappear from the world. Her dirty blond hair and oddly bright eyes drew Medusa in. Medusa couldn’t help but think this woman was not meant for this world, it would never fit quite right…

As medusa stared after her, someone blocked her sight for just a moment, but when she looked again the woman was gone. 

***

The sun was beginning to set, as Medusa gathered the last of her ripe raspberries, and fed Athena, her goat. It seemed like a decent retribution, but not enough to get her smitted. As Medusa neared the road, Athena enjoyed watching the streams that ran along it, she heard a sharp gurgle. Medusa looked around but only saw Athena, hoofs sunk into the stream, it must have been that. But as the sound came again Medusa stopped in her tracks. Years treating wounded men taught her to recognize the sound of human pain. 

Taking quick steps over the grassy hill Medusa searched out the noise, not daring to call out, just in case. As Medusa reached the peak she looked down the small decline. There. Near the trees, a red shoe lay abandoned.

Medusa paused searching for any sound to direct her but none came, a bad sign. As quiet as she could, medusa neared the shoe searching the thicker brush. 

A cut off sob brought Medusa up short. A little further in she could see two figures, the diminishing light in the small forest interrupted her sight, but not enough to spare her the sight of a man, fist cocked. It was not his first punch. The woman below him was too shadowed to see. 

Instinct brought medusa to her full height. For so long she had tried to be good, to not be the monster everyone had said she was. But in that moment, as she ripped off her hair wrap and rushed forward to grab the man's shirt, she loved the monster. 

The man turned in her grasp. He didn’t have enough time to scream before his skin turned grey and hardening. 

Medusa spared him only a glance before she rushed forward. The woman was crumpled, crying, shaking. As Medusa neared a shudder went through her body. 

“No, please no more.” it came out as a sob. 

Medusa stopped, had the woman not seen her kill the man? Her voice came out rough with fury, “I won’t hurt you.”

The woman's eyes shot wide, but her expression barely changed. It was then Medusa realized two things. This was the woman she had seen in the market, the one who enchanted her with only a glance. And this woman could not see. 

A relieved sigh blew out prematurely, sure this woman didn’t know she had killed the man, and had done so using a curse. But the bruises forming on the woman's face and the way she clenched her belly were a whole new problem. 

Sinking down closer Medusa spoke. “My name is Medusa, I promise you, you are alright I scared that man off. I live very close, can I bring you back and tend to your injuries?”

The fear and adrenaline seemed to leak out of the woman, she just nodded before a glazed look came over her face and her eyes closed. 

***

Hours later in the dim candle light of her cottage Medusa set water to boil. She had stumbled back, hoping her carrying the woman would lead to further injury. She had set to work undressing and examining. There were only a few cuts, it seemed the man had favoured a fist and bruises. 

Medusa had felt almost normal again, as she set to brewing herbs and cleaning wounds. An old routine once again realized. 

When she had done all she could Medusa had wrapped the woman’s sleeping figure in animal skins and left her to rest. 

But her brain was still running too fast, even after setting a stew to cook, making extra poultices, and cleaning up, her fingers rang with energy. 

As the moon rose Medusa went into her bedroom, where she had set the woman to rest. Checked her head for fever. And then stayed. She tried to read the book next to the bed, some dribble about gods fucking shit up, but the glow of candle light bouncing off the woman’s hair kept catching Medusa’s eye. 

Medusa wanted to know her name, she imagined it would be something poetic, and mysterious. The name of a goddess, but the good kind of goddess. Her hair seemed to change color with the light, in the sun it had been a dark honey, but now it was a caramel brown. Her light lashes caressed the tips of her cheekbones in a way that was much too tempting. Though Medusa had seen more of this woman than was decent, it had been with a medical eye. But now in the dim light, hair flattened against white sheets, Medusa realized the exquisite creature she had found. 

A soft breath woke Medusa from dreamless sleep. A delicious warmth made opening her eyes that much more painful.

She found herself nestled beside another body. The soft breaths played with the hair at Medusa’s forehead. Pushing herself into a seated position, Medusa examined her new reality. 

Her life of solitude had ended, even if it was only momentarily. 

The figure in her bed was still sleeping peacefully. The bruising on her face didn’t look much worse thanks to her herbs. But dark smudges under the woman’s eyes spoke to the severity of the blows. 

A familiar ache bloomed behind Medusa’s ribcage. She had once been the bruised, battered woman, instead of help she had received a curse. 

Pulling herself forcefully away from the thought, Medusa made her way into the kitchen. 

When the woman woke she would need food, water, and medicine. 

Another half day had passed when Medusa began to worry. Sleep was good, but dehydration would not do any good for healing. 

As medusa fed Athena she worried, contemplating forcibly waking the woman. As she strode inside, a half baked plan forming she heard muttering coming from her bedroom. 

The door was still open, so Medusa made her way to it. Inside the woman was half awake, and seemed to be trying to push herself up. 

Any hope at delicately making herself known was thrown out the window as the woman rolled sideways almost tipping off the bed. 

Medusa rushed forward, steadying the woman. “Careful, or you’ll undo all the work I put in, saving your face.”

The woman grunted, unimpressed. But allowed Medusa to guide her into a sitting position. 

“I will be right back. Do not move.” medusa commanded. Rushing to the kitchen she grabbed a bowl, a cup, and a basket from the cupboards. 

Sitting down next to the woman, Medusa reached for her hand. “Here, drink this.”

Obediently the woman took a sip, then then a gulp. Gasping a little she looked up in Medusa’s direction. It was unnerving, looking directly into another person’s eyes. Medusa had trained herself to do the exact opposite for years. But this woman seemed to be fine. 

Clearing her throat the woman croaked, “more?” 

Medusa poured the glass full and guided it into the woman's hand. 

After another glass the woman seemed to clear enough to speak in complete sentences. “How long have I been here?” there was no fear in her words, only curiosity. 

“Only two day’s.” Medusa replied, trying to add some comforting warmth to her voice. “Can I ask you what happened?”

The woman shook her head, but spoke. “I became useless to him. So he decided to get rid of me.'' The shrug seemed forced, but still defiant in its uncaring. 

As to not push her, Medusa asked her another burning question, “what is your name? Judging by the deepness of the bruising on you stomach, you won’t be going anywhere for a while.”

A snorting laugh seemed a wholly ridiculous reply to what Medusa has said. Her laughs turned to grimaces soon after, but the damage had been done. Medusa's heart skipped a beat as her cheeks redden. 

Sobering up the woman spoke. “I'm Ophelia. I’m not sure what will come of me now, but i'm glad I didn’t die in a ditch somewhere.” 

“Of course.” Medusa couldn’t think up anything else to say, but a yawn saved her any awkwardness. 

Pulling the empty stew bowl from Ophelia’s hands, Medusa muttered “you should rest some more. When you wake I will change your bandages.”

The sleep draught Medusa had added to the stew had done its work. Ophelia’s eyes closed. Medusa pulled the blanket to cover Ophelia’s chest and took one last look before leaving, the door left ajar. 

The next time Ophelia woke, Medusa had just pulled a loaf of bread from the fired oven. A small tired voice calling out to her alerted Medusa to her guests' woken state. 

With a little more difficulty than last time Medusa carried Ophelia to the bathing chambers, cleaning her wounds, and the rest of her. Then Medusa left to prep a dinner and the poultice she would need. Trying to give Ophelia a modicum of privacy. 

The sun had begun to sink when Medusa had Ophelia securely settled under blankets with a meal in her hand. 

“Thank you,” Ophelia peaked up, “I don’t think I have said that yet. You didn’t have to do any of this.” The sadness in Ophelia’s expression broke Medusa a little.

Reaching forward, Medusa gently grasped her hand. “I know what it is like to be hurt, and no one cared. I would never leave you.” The certainty in Medusa’s voice struck Ophelia, a small whimper left her lips before she could mask it. 

“Umm…” Ophelia's voice broke. She just nodded. Medusa started to move her hand, but Ophelia grabbed it tighter. 

Looking down at her lap Ophelia faltered before speaking. “Can you stay.”

Medusa began to nod. She placed their bowls aside. The deflated look on Ophelia’s face reminded Medusa she could not see the nod. “Of course.” Medusa assured. 

Crawling up the bed Medusa sat next to Ophelia. Before Medusa could offer to help her lie down, Ophelia leaned her head on Medusa’s shoulder and closed her eyes. 

Medusa’s heart began to beat at three times its normal rate. Ophelia was injured, they didn’t even know each other, and all around it would be a terrible idea, but Medusa still yearned to touch the soft skin of Ophelia’s hand and brush her pale cheek.

***

Medusa woke to an ache in her neck, the darkness told her must still be night. She was still sitting up, but Ophelia was no longer a comforting weight on her shoulder. 

Ophelia’s gaze was trained on the window, which was slightly ajar. Letting in a crisp autumn breeze. 

Her wakefulness instantly worried Medusa. The medicine should have made her sleep through the night. 

“Are you alright? Are you in pain? Do you need water?” hastily Medusa sat upright wanting to reach out and take in whatever was causing such a terribly sad look on Ophelia’s face. 

Ophelia turned to her slowly, a small smile gracing her lips. “I’m fine, it hurts a bit, that's what woke me. But truly I feel better.”

Medusa went to get up, “I will go get you something to help the pain-” but a hand grasping her own stopped her. 

“No, that’s alright, I don’t want to sleep right now. They are filled with memories I'd rather forget.”

It suddenly occurred to Medusa this was the most she had heard Ophelia speak. Settling back into the bed medusa wrung her hands. 

“Well, maybe sharing those memories might help you forget.”

Ophelia’s answering smile sent rays of light aflame inside Medusa. “I don’t think we know each other well enough to talk about them.” Ophelia said dryly. 

“Alright then let's get to know each other.” Medusa remarked.

“Okay, why don’t you tell me why you live alone in the middle of the woods.” Ophelia began. 

That was a hard one. Medusa couldn’t tell the whole truth. She hardly ever told any truth, but Ophelia seemed sincere and truly curious. “Something bad happened, I couldn’t stay. So I left. I didn’t know where I was going but somehow I ended up here.” 

It was something at least. 

Ophelia nodded as though this had been some big declaration, not a quarter of a story. “This ‘bad thing’, is it what you mentioned earlier? Being hurt and having no one?”

Medusa sighed, but replied. “It was.”

Ophelia seemed to sense that she was nearing an area that was off limits, so she just nodded. Then very deliberately sought out Medusa’s hand on the blanket. Clutching it where it sat in medusa’s lap. 

Without prompting Ophelia spoke again. “If you are alone in the woods all the time, what do you do to pass the time?” 

“It is not my turn to ask a question?” Medusa deadpanned. 

Ophelia let out a soft chuckle. “Just answer this and then you can ask two. How about that?”

“Well it does sound fair…” Medusa allowed. “Where did you think all that medicine was coming from? I plant, I water, I feed my goat, and I cook. I also make pottery. I sell it at the market.”

“Funny, I want the market today… Or the day you found me…“ Ophelia interjected. 

“I actually saw you that day. I was astonished when the woman I found happened to be the one I stared at that day.” Medusa realized her mistake too late.

“You stared at me?” Ophelia purred. It seemed she was feeling better. 

Medusa didn't deign to answer. “I believe it was my turn to ask questions.” 

Ophelia laughed softly. It came so easy to her. Even in pain, in a stranger's bed, a laugh was only a second away. 

As quiet fell Medusa racked her brain for a question. Everything she wanted to know would probably bring back the shadows in Ophelia’s eyes. She needed something harmless, something… 

“How many men have written poetry about you? With a name like Ophelia and eyes like yours, it must be in the hundreds.” 

Medusa was rewarded with another laugh. “If only the eyes worked.” Ophelia jibbed back, but there didn’t seem to be real pain in the words. “I have made peace with it, don't get me wrong. But I could see once. It's times like this when I wish for something different. I have no idea what you look like, you could be fifty and covered in warts.”

It was Medusa’s turn to laugh. She hadn't thought of that. Medusa moved to be seated in front of Ophelia. “Well let’s fix that. I can describe myself to you in vivid detail.”

Ophelia’s smile grew. “I’d like that.” she sat back as if to watch a show.

It was only then Medusa realized she didn’t know how to describe herself. Should she mention her hair? She had learned to love her snakes but they may send Ophelia running. 

“Umm, I have a face?” Medusa tried. 

Smirking, Ophelia leaned forward. “This might work better.” She raised her hands to the general direction of Medusa’s words. “Can I?”

Medusa just guided Ophelia’s hands to her cheeks.

With an achingly gentle touch Ophelia set to mapping out Medusa using only her finger tips. She followed the soft line of nose, hollow cheeks, sharp cheekbones. 

While Ophelia was focused on searching, Medusa focused on her eyes. She would never get tired of staring into them. It had been so long since she had done this, and Ophelia had the most exquisite eyes. The blue was so light yet bright as they fixed onto where her hands were moving. 

A soft murmur brought Medusa back. “You’re so beautiful.” The surety in Ophelia’s voice startled her. Ophelia seemed to startle herself too, she quickly pulled her hands into her lap, face burning red. 

“How can you tell?” Medusa asked, the embarrassment much less important than her curiosity. 

“I just do, I learned how to read faces using my own, and ones I knew before…” 

Medusa didn’t know what to say, and she could see Ophelia didn’t want to continue down a path of memories. Instead Medusa reached for Ophelia’s hands and placed them where Ophelia had left off. As Ophelia’s touches moved towards Medusa’s hair she clenched her eyes closed. 

The first touch had Ophelia recoiling. She paused, tilted her head, then tentatively reached forward again. 

Ophelia’s brows drew closer together the more she explored Medusa’s serpentine locks.

Taking a preparing breath, Medusa began. “The ‘bad thing’ involved a curse. Well… a gift, that turned out to be a curse, I was given a few… alterations. One was the hair, they are… snakes.” Medusa paused waiting for the scream or cringe. 

But Ophelia just brushed her hand along scales, “and the other alterations?”

Medusa might as well just put it all out on the table. “The man,” Medusa didn’t have to specify, they both knew what man she meant. “I didn’t scare him away. He looked into my eyes, and turned to stone.” 

This did give Ophelia pause. Medusa could almost see the thoughts swirling around Ophelia’s mind. But all Ophelia said was, “good riddance.” 

A warmth spread from medusa’s fingertips to her toes. For some ungodly reason she wanted to smile. 

“This might seem like a ridiculous question, but do you have to feed them?” Ophelia inquired. 

“Yes, that is a ridiculous question.” With that Medusa lay down on the bed. “I think it is about time you tried to get more sleep. I will keep the memories away.”

Ophelia inched down into an inclined position. She looked over in Medusa’s direction. A smile playing on her lips. “I believe you.” she pointedly brushed a serpentine lock before closing her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have gotten this far thank you so much for reading. 
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed!
> 
> I am hoping to post the next chapter soon, we will see.


End file.
